kiss me like the stars are burning
by Masquerading with Shadows
Summary: And they're just another forbidden love story. Cat-centric. Beck/Cat; some Beck/Jade.


She thinks that if they were a fairytale, they'd start like this:

Beck&Cat. Always.

She doesn't know how they'd end, because she doesn't think they ever will.

.

"What was I like as a child?" she asks her parents, though she's only eight. Her parents look at each other, the beginnings of surprise and the endings of a short-lived smirk on their faces. She looks up at them with wide brown eyes, a slight frown taking form on her features at the silence.

"You were very curious," they answer simultaneously.

"You were always asking questions about everything. It was…endearing," her mother adds, smiling down at her. "You still are."

"The first time it rained, you asked why the sky was crying," her father says, his eyes twinkling (but it doesn't match because he's got weary lines between his eyebrows, and she just wants to make them go away). "You started crying too. It took you ages to calm you down."

"Oh," she says quietly after a pause, and she thinks she can see grey skies and feel warm arms encircling her and smell lavender all over again, but then again maybe she can't because her mind plays tricks on her sometimes. And then she stares at the floor, running her hands up and down the cream carpet over and over again, feeling it under her fingers. When she looks up again, her father is gone and she replays everything she heard but didn't listen to over again in her mind and realises that he must have gone to work.

"Mummy," she starts. It takes her mother a while to turn her gaze to Cat, away from the blank wall in front of her. But finally, her lips twitch and she turns to her, though her eyes are still glazed and she can see her own brown eyes reflected in her mother's brown ones. "Why does daddy look so tired?" she continues. Her mother's head lands in her hands.

"I don't have time for your questions," she says. "Ask me later, sweetie." Cat nods her head and then she goes.

.

She asks questions about everything. She just can't stop. It's as if everything she sees almost needs a reason for existing, proof that it should exist. But she doesn't ask any questions about love, not ever (and she wonders if she just _needs_ it to exist).

"Mummy, why doesn't anyone have red hair?" she asks. Her mother looks as if she's half-asleep, and it takes a few shakes of her head and blinks of her eyes for her to focus on Cat again, a perplexed look on her face. It's only when she looks at the screen, the colourful cartoon faces smiling back at her that she realises how the question's relevant.

"I don't know, honey. I guess that's just how Disney designed it," she says. "Red isn't that common. But what does it matter? You have brown hair," she says. Cat folds her arms over her chest and yells,

"But I don't want it to be! It should be red." She huffs again, only for a smile to grace her face once more. "Like red velvet cupcakes." She giggles. After that, all her questions are forgotten and her attention is turned back to the movie.

Two weeks later, they rent the movie, _The Little Mermaid _for her, smiling and saying, _this one has red hair_. She loves it, watches it over and over again until her brother complains and slams his bedroom door so loudly that she actually jumps into the air. She learns the words to all the songs, sings along with Ariel so loudly that her chest starts to hurt and her mother has to take an aspirin to get rid of her headache.

And this what she learns from that movie. Not about how to sing, but how to be in love.

_Give everything, and you will get what you want in return. _

.

She's watching another Disney movie when it happens - this time it's _Cinderella_. She's sitting on the floor of her living room, right in front of the TV with her eyes wide in anticipation of what's going to happen next. But then she hears shouting, loud and mean coming from upstairs. Immediately, she hides at the back of the couch, a pillow over her head to block out all the noise.

She doesn't ever know how long it goes on for, whether for only a couple of minutes or twenty. But by the time it's finished her legs are starting to hurt after being squashed against her body and her fingers are tense after grasping the pillow too hard. Slowly, she comes out from behind the couch, into an eerie silence, the voices from the movie seeming far, far away. She's just about to relax when she hears the sharp sound of the front door banging shut, just as the glass slipper breaks.

She starts to cry.

Softly at first, but then just a little bit louder, and then louder again. By the time arms wrap around her, a voice mumbling softly into her hair, she can't even remember why she's crying in the first place. The tears still manage to link from her closed eyelids, onto the floor and staining her face. Even when she finally stops crying, her face is still sticky, as if to remind her that she's so young and weak.

She realises that it's her brother that's trying to calm her down, not her parents, which makes her feel even worse. But he smiles at her and strokes her hair and holds her hand, and then they watch the movie some more. It's nearly at the end when her mother storms in, her face like thunder. She cowers into her brother some more. Her mother doesn't say anything, just stares at the screen aimlessly. Finally she says,

"Don't ever believe what you see here." She almost hisses it, spits it out from her blood red lips. "It's a lie. Just a fucking _lie_ and only the foolish believe it." Cat continues to stay silent, even though her mother used a bad word and the credits are ending and her brother's hand has left her and she can feel him glaring at her mother.

She doesn't say anything.

.

She stops watching the movies after that, for fear that if she does keep on watching them, she'll start to believe them. Even after her mother apologises and her father says I will always love you, no matter what, like a scripted mantra, she still doesn't. Even though the song she sings to get into Hollywood Arts is from the Little Mermaid, she doesn't ever look at them; never takes them out from the treasure box under her bed.

(But she thinks that maybe, just maybe, she still believes in love.)

.

She's twelve, and has only just started Hollywood Arts when her mother takes her to a doctor and says for the first time out loud, _I think something's wrong_. All she can do is look at her mother in confusion and say, _What's that supposed to mean?  
_  
After that, the doctor asks her questions and writes down words that he won't let her see, and looks at her mother and nods and shakes his head all at once. Her mother tells her to go wait outside, and with a pout she does, sitting outside the door.

She only hears a couple of words through the thick wood, like, _not as bad as Nathan_, and, _twice every day_. Soon, she hears footsteps and quickly moves, running back to the waiting room and sitting down on one of the hard chairs with an audible thump. Coming out, her mother looks even more tired that usual, especially when they stop outside the chemist. She doesn't go in with her.

After that, every morning and every night she has to take different coloured pills, looking just like candy as they lay out on the kitchen bench. Looking over at her brother, she sees his as well, though there are more in his pile. He stares grimly at them, before punching the fridge and taking only a couple.

She starts to cry then, refusing to take them, even as her mother pleads. Nathan then starts to cry as well, banging his fists against different surfaces after only taking a couple more, at least three different pills still on the counter, dancing around colourfully as he hits the surface. Her mother than starts to cry as well, and that's when she feels warm, missed, yet familiar hands on top of her shoulders.

Her father manages to calm everybody down in under five minutes, and makes her and Nathan reluctantly take their pills. Her mother just looks defeated, drinking a clear substance in the background. She goes over and tries to comfort her, but she only makes it worse. Her father than ushers everybody out of the kitchen, and closes the door (but this time it's with a gentle click, not a slam).

She slides down the door, gesturing for Nathan to come and sit beside her. He just shakes his head, and turns his head to the side and to the wall blocking them from the kitchen, not looking at her. She sees his hands turn themselves into fists and his jaw clench shut. With a heavy sigh, he walks away, looking defeated as well.

Turning her attention back to her parents, she presses her ear up against the cold wood.

"If you care about them so much then why don't you stay?" she hears her mother ask, desperation lacing itself into her voice, hitching at the end.

"I just can't," her father replies simply. Her forehead creases in confusion, and her heart starts to race as the silence stretches out. She thinks she hears a soft comment come from her mother, but she can feel her heart racing in her ears and her head is starting to hurt. She almost doesn't move out of the way in time as her mother stalks out the door, upstairs to her bedroom. She looks down, away from her mother's back, and sees her father's shoes. She looks up at him, trying to look innocent, but instead she just feels sad.

He crouches down next to her, stroking her hair without a word. His eyes look greyer than she remembers, almost emptier. She's about to say something about them before he beats her to it.

"Cat," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just want to say…I'm sorry. I am so, so, very sorry." She wants to ask why, what mummy meant before, why isn't he staying. But she can't, the ache in her chest almost too strong for her to bare. He starts to talk again, and she tries to distract herself from the pain.

"But, I want you to know," he pauses, his eyes moving away from her face to upstairs, as if he can see Nathan and her mother through the walls and the ceiling. "Just, to whatever makes you happy. All right? For me," he says finally, and she nods her head as if she understands, even though she doesn't.

He leaves again before her mother comes down, before she even gets up off the floor. It's the last time she sees him - and for once, she doesn't ask any questions.

.

A week later, she dyes her hair red for the first time. It's not done properly, only with red spray paint, but she loves it and can't help but sing songs from the Little Mermaid even though she promised herself she never would again.

Her mother's eyes widen when she sees it, and Cat thinks she sees her hands start to tremble and fear in her eyes, though of what, she's not sure. Quickly, her mother composes herself and takes a deep breath in, telling her to have a shower immediately. She practically has to drag Cat into the bathroom.

At first, she sets the shower too hot, steam coming out and turning the mirror white and the shower glass opaque (and for one fleeting minute she considers stepping in, burning herself until there's nothing left; disappearing into the fog forever). She frowns when she realises that she can't see her hair.

She steps into the shower and closes her eyes at the sound of her brother and mother fighting again. She tightens her hands into fists, hearing the words echo around her as if she was just in the room rather than in the shower. She takes one deep breath, and sings it out. She smiles at the note.

She opens her eyes and looks down at the white tiles by her feet, only to see red swirling around them, staining the already tinted white. She suddenly feels nauseous, even as the rational part starts screaming in her head that it's just the hair dye, just the hair dye, she can't help but think that it's blood.

Her knees give out, and she slides down the wall, shivering as her naked back hits the cool surface, the water still beating down on her. She watches as the red swirls around her, dripping down her body and circling the drain, her breathing still fast and shallow, her mind still tricking her and trying to convince her all at once. She just wants to get away, yet she feels as if she can't move anywhere; as if she won't ever be able to again. Slowly, the water starts to turn pink rather than red, and she starts to breathe slower. The water has only just turned clear when her mother calls.

"Cat! Get out of the shower right now," she yells. Cat yells back a hurried reply and almost slips on the wet floor, and once again her head is filled with pictures of dripping blood. And then she can't help but burst into tears, her saltwater mixing falling into the drain along with everything else. Her mother yells again, and she wipes away her tears and finally gets out. She can't help but somehow feel disappointed when she looks into the mirror and sees brown hair rather than red.

.

After a whole week of persistent begging, her mother finally agrees to let her dye her hair red. She picks the colour of red velvet cupcakes.

( - but really, she can't help but think it's more like the colour of blood.)

.

When she's thirteen, a new boy comes to Hollywood Arts. She meets him on her first day after school, when everyone else has left yet they're both still hanging around the lockers because she's packing her bag, and it's taking longer than normal because she's also texting Jade at the same time.

She's just about to leave, focusing on her thumb as it moves across the numbers quickly, when she bumps into him, sending her phone flying across the floor and both of them to the ground. His first words to her are, "Sorry." Her first words to him are,

"You look like something out a Disney movie." She hasn't seen one for almost six years now, yet the images are burned onto the back of her brain. Immediately after she's said it, her hands clasps onto her mouth, and she thinks she feels herself flush pink with embarrassment. To her surprise, he just laughs.

"Um, thanks," he says, then proceeding to pick up her backpack and phone for her. She takes them, mumbling a quick thank you. "I'm Beck," he adds, holding out his hand.

"I'm Cat," she replies, shaking his hand. His grin widens.

"Like the animal?" he asks.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she exclaims, retracting her hand back quickly. She sees his eyes widen, and he takes a step back out of reflex.

"Nothing, nothing," he says. "I just, ugh, wanted to know how to spell it." He's rubbing the back of his neck now and looking down at his feet. Her breathing and heart rate start to calm down, and she feels herself smile.

"Oh, ok," she says. He smiles back.

"Hey, I gotta get going," he says. "But it was nice meeting you. Really," he says.

"Ok, you too," she says, nodding her head. They walk out from the lockers side by side, and then he leaves her. She smiles for the rest of the afternoon, even when Jade yells at her for being fifteen minutes late, and even when she has to take her medicine.

She writes in her diary that night, just one little sentence at the top of a fresh page; black and white and simple and _everything_.

_I love him. _

.

(She never writes in that diary again.)

.

Fast forward six months later, and Jade wins. Jade wins Beck in a competition that only one person knew was happening (and she guess that that doesn't really make it fair), and Cat loses. Jade and Beck kiss behind the school after missing it for a whole day, and she sees because it's right below her classroom window.

She has to excuse herself for ten minutes, and she goes and sits on the cold porcelain toilet and doesn't cry, because she's so, so tired of doing that.

And that night, as she lies in bed, she dreams of Beck holding her tightly and whispering meaningless words that she knows she'll never hear in real life. She can imagine so clearly, so vividly the feel of her spine pressing against his chest, the feel of his warm hand on her stomach, the feel of her skin on his.

She wakes up and thinks that she feels the ghost of legs over hers, a kiss on her cheek. She closes her eyes and tries to go back to sleep, wills herself to go back to her dream even though she knows that it's impossible. But she's so cold under the light cotton sheets, and has to pull out her old blankets from the cupboard to warm her up again (but what she'd really like is for another person, for Beck to hug her close to him and warm her up).

.

She thinks that they're all like pieces on a chessboard; her, Jade and Beck. She's the white queen and Jade's the black queen, and Beck's a king. It doesn't matter what colour he is, because he'll never truly match. If he's black, then he'll be on a white square, and while he'll be next to Jade, he'll be her colour.

And somehow, it's like he'll always be on the opposite side of the chessboard for her, always unreachable. Or he'll be stolen away from her, trapped before she can get to him.

She decides that she's never playing chess again - it's bad karma.

She's seventeen and nothing's really changed (she still has red hair and she still giggles and she's still taking the exact same number of pills each morning and night and Beck's still dating Jade). She's sitting in the park with Beck, her ice cream starting to melt in her hand, the pink colour running its way through the lines between her fingers, dripping onto the seat underneath her.

She didn't mean to bump into him, and it's certainly not a date. She was just getting ice cream, and he was waiting for Jade (he was early and she was late - they don't really fit, she thinks, and then tells herself to just be quiet). He called her over to come and sit with him, and that's how it started.

(And no, her heart didn't flutter and butterflies didn't suddenly start to fly around in her stomach when he said her name.)

She's smiling at him as he talks, not really listening to a word he says, just liking the way his lips move and his eyes sparkle and how they're the exact same colour as hers. Occasionally she nods her head, just to show that she's listening (though she thinks that he knows she isn't listening, and wonders maybe if he just likes her company).

"Um, Cat," he says. "Your ice ceam is basically gone," he says, a helpful tone in his voice. Sure enough, when she looks over she sees that her ice cream is at least half the size that it was ten minutes ago, and that her hand has a pinkish tinge to it.

"Oh," she says, giggling. "I guess you're right." After that, she swaps her ice cream to the other hand and starts to lick melted remnants off her fingers, watching as her pink tinge turns back to its normal white colour. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Beck with a strange expression on his face, though it passes quickly. She takes her hand away from her face, and looks at him square in the eye, an untraceable sense of fear taking over her.

"What?" she asks softly. He doesn't say anything, no denial, no accusations, no questions. He doesn't look guilty, though she doesn't know why he should. Instead, he looks considerate, as if he didn't even wonder for a second what she was talking about, if it was relevant at all.

"It's just…" he says after awhile. He still looks thoughtful, glancing at the trees swaying in the breeze, but not in a distracted way. She wonders if she's ever felt this comfortable with a person before, even with strawberry ice cream melting all over her hand and sticking the spaces between her fingers together. Suddenly, a smile lights Beck's face, and he turns back to grin widely at her.

"You were just reminding me," he says. "Of something out of a Disney movie." She smiles, and that then turns into a grin, and then the chain of reactions continues, until in the end they're both kissing; she's kissing him and he's kissing her and

- they're kissing each other, and she can feel _them_. Even though they're barely touching, even though it also feels like they're miles apart and that there's too much air between them, she can sense them; the feeling of them together. The warmth and the memories of them and the delusionals that have floated in her all come back to her in a rush, until she feels as if she's drenched in him, in all that has ever been of him.

They break apart, gasping the air into their lungs, though she feels as if oxygen with never be good enough ever again, as if all she needs and wants will be Beck. She realises that she's clasped his hand in hers, that the ice cream is still melting all over her other one, but she can't care. She just loves the warmth from his body that spreads through hers, into her bloodstream, going straight to her heart.

"You taste like stardust," she whispers quietly, their foreheads almost touching. She says it without thinking, but she doesn't know if Beck hears it anyway. He looks distracted, glassy eyes and shiny red lips; he almost looks too perfect to be real anyway, and she can't help but wonder if it's a dream.

It's only when she sees a flash of black that she knows that if she is dreaming, it would be a nightmare. Without another breath, Beck pulls away from her, rips his hand out of hers so fast that she thinks she's lost skin, and she turns to see Jade. She thinks she always knew what would happen, even as she was leaning into kiss him (did she lean in, or was it him?).

Jade takes one look at them, and Cat already knows that she must have caught them in the act. One look at both of them, and she walks away, and Beck follows her.

Leaving Cat behind.

.

She wasn't dreaming. She wasn't having a nightmare.

She wishes she had been.

.

By Monday afternoon everybody knows that Beck and Jade have broken up. No one even bothers to mention her name, and she doesn't know whether to be thankful or disappointed. Jade doesn't do anything either - doesn't speak to her or look at her or hit her.

She goes home feeling as if acid's in her stomach, as if during the night it will start to eat away at her insides. Through her bones and through her skin until there's nothing left anymore, not even her hair.

She wonders if anybody would remember her the way she wants them to.

.

"Why haven't you done anything?" she asks her. It's only been three days, but the exact same question has been pounding in her head, digging into her skin as if it's about to rip it. She has to know why, because she knows exactly what Jade West is like, and simple friendship doesn't excuse any of this.

(It doesn't help that Beck hasn't talked to her or looked at her since then.)

"Why?" she repeats. "Why haven't you yelled at me, hit me, done anything?" She thinks she can feel tears pricking the corner of her eyes, that their arrival is starting to blur her vision. Though she's not sure whether it's because of that, because her stomach is also starting to hurt and her head is saw, and she's so dizzy that she thinks she may collapse. But she does manage to clearly see Jade take one look at her and say,

"Because I pity you far too much." She doesn't elaborate any further, only pauses for a split second to wait for a reaction that never comes, and then leaves her. Just like Beck did.

She wants to say that it feels like knives twisting in her back, that it's like a punch to the gut - but it's not. She can't describe what it feels like, but the closest thing she can think of is that it's like having a never ending emptiness inside you, but you can feel it all draining away from you.

After that, she skips school for the rest of the day, and goes home and hides under her bed covers, trying to lose herself in a world of lightness and white and pink and the patterns that change every time she closes her eyes. Only Tori and André call her, and that's two hours after she's left because they didn't notice before, and she doesn't reply because she's scared that if she talks, or even breathes, that she'll cry.

It's only when Beck calls that she picks up the phone, and the words that slip out of her mouth form a strangled, _i need you, come over here. please. _And then she hangs up before he replies because she knows the answer already, and he doesn't have her address anyway, and he wouldn't find her because they've never fit properly so he wouldn't just know because it's _her_; and she's not bright enough to show him the way.

To her surprise, a body dips onto the bed, and pulls the covers back from her body, no matter how hard her fingers dig in. Before she can process what's happening, strong arms have pulled her petite frame into a welcoming lap, and then she can feel flannel beneath her skin and her closed lips are gently grazing against soft skin.

"How…" she starts, but breaks off when she hears the hitch in her own voice.

"Tori told me you're address," an equally soft voice responds. She makes an undistinguishable noise, and wonders if he knows what it means (what _she_ means). There's silence, save for the sound of his breathing and the sound of them against each other, him just holding her. Finally, after a little while, he places his fingers under her chin and brings her face up to look at him, looking each other straight in the eye.

He kisses her.

(That's all she wants to remember. She wants it to end there because nothing was ever and can never be as perfect as it was at that moment.

But it keeps going, and soon her fingers are trembling against pearly white buttons and his hands are making their way under her shirt, and everything's a blur and she can't tell if she's feeling the good type of dizzy or the wrong type. Her bare skin is against his and she's trying to just focus on his voice, but he's not speaking and she only has memories and it occurs to her that maybe, that's all she'll ever have.

She cries when he enters her, cries because there's pain and there's blood and she hates the thought of tainting her sheets with something so ugly and wrong. He tries to comfort her, but she still feels empty and something's not right at all, and the only thing that she can think of as she grasps onto his skin is that _we should need each other_.

She only gets the chance to listen to him breathe, to rest as she lies across his chest, feel their bones across each others, before he moves. She doesn't say a word as he talks, apologises, and begins to get dressed, only pulls the sheets over her own body further and nods her head mutely. She says goodbye to him five minutes late, and knows that he's already out on the street.

After that, all she can bring herself to do is have a shower. She doesn't cry, only stands under the freezing cold spray of water and wonders if it's washing away all the dirt and the sin off her skin, from her blood and her lungs and her heart. She can't even bring herself to check if all the blood is gone from her thighs.

She can't sleep in her bed that night because she doesn't change the sheets and she can't bear to look at that stain, to be reminded of everything. So she just sleeps in the floor wearing one of her hoodies, and cries herself to sleep when she realises that she wants it to be Beck's.)

.

After that, Beck starts to kiss her more often, hold her hand in between hers as if it's all he'll ever need, like it's as warm as a cigarette between his fingers. She smiles more widely than she can say when he finally takes her to his RV, where it's just them. Only them, by themselves. With no other distractions, and his eyes shine with hers and she wonders if anybody else has felt this happy.

He doesn't call her his girlfriend, and though she's never sure why, possibly from him being so bruised and scarred still, she in return she doesn't call him her boyfriend. When people ask them, when she asks herself what they are, she always answers, Beck&Cat, of course. She doesn't have any other answer, and she feels content with that answer; it manages to push her doubts aside.

Jade never really talks to her again, but sometimes she thinks she sees Jade looking at her, and when she glances up she can feel the air of a sad smile in her direction. She never knows what it means. She wonders if this is what Ariel did, by giving up everything and getting the one thing she wants in return.

_Worth it_, she thinks silently. She's in his arms again. She thinks that maybe this is what perfection feels like, that even though he's not looking at her, that she can feel the whole galaxy; the whole universe; every single star that burns in the night inside of her, chasing all the fear and darkness away. She thinks that maybe she can feel eternity and the truth in forever in his touch, and she wonders if this is what love feels like.

Even after all these months, he still makes the butterflies flutter in her stomach, makes them fly up to her chest and come flying out of her mouth each time he kisses her. She wonders if she sounds too sappy, too love struck, but she's always been like that, it's what he loves about her, or so he says (and maybe now she's too in love for her own good).

It's dark now, she realises, and the movie that they (he) were watching is almost over. Without a word, he turns to her, and she can't help but smile up at him, though for once, he doesn't smile back at her. Still not saying anything, he brings his palm up to her face, stroking a thumb over her cheekbone. Everything seems slower, as if the night is stealing everything that could have been just to make the sky darker, to block out the stars and stop them shining once and for all. She sits there in silence, waits there in anticipation for him to say something. When he finally does, she thinks she can feel the end of something (and maybe it's just her world).

He takes her hand and kisses her on the cheek, and whispers in her ear, _hand in hand_, and she's not sure whether he's sharing a secret or telling her something special that she should already know. She starts to panic, her eyebrows furrowing together, but then he starts to pull away and she needs to put on a smile, because it's _Beck_.

She's still not sure if that was the right response or not, because Beck just smiles sadly at her but then he kisses her, and she still feels bad for not knowing what he's saying, what he's trying to tell her in his actions.

So she leaves and he doesn't try and stop her and she wonders if he was just trying to tell her that all along.

.

She's eighteen, and though she still hasn't filled out her college application, she feels all grown up (though then again, she felt the same ten years ago, and she has trouble trusting herself - the doctor tells her so). Her mother always tells her that she needs a backup plan, tells her that she must go to college because her career is everything and nobody you can trust will come and save.

But she doesn't care, even when the words plant themselves in her brain and seeds of doubt start to grow in her head, like a cloud going from white to black; thunderstorm clouds bursting open and raining down upon her, harsh words and sharp voices that nobody else can hear filling her heavy head. But Beck's always the calm after the storm, the thing that stops the voices and the noises. He always has.

He drives her home one day, her hair flying out in the air as she sings along loudly, him plain out refusing to sing along with her. The wind in her hair and brushing against her skin leaves her carefree, as if the air had lifted up all her worries and troubles; as if it was strong enough to do it, unlike her. She smiles over at him, looking at the blue sky and not seeing a cloud (and it's all wrong; too deceiving and nothing's going to plan).

It's only when they arrive at her place, and he grabs onto her wrist instead of her hand that she knows something's wrong. She hears him sigh, the sound seeming so loud and so important, even in the open air with cars driving by and the music still blaring from the radio, now only a meaningless distraction rather than a source of enjoyment.

She looks at him. It takes him a long while for him to look back, but she still doesn't leave, because she doesn't leave people, she's decided (_she gets left_). Finally, when he does look at her, he presses his palm to her cheek, just like he did all those nights ago.

"You don't deserve this," he says, simply, as if it explains everything. "I'm sorry. You'll be lonely," is all he adds. She's still confused though, just as confused as she was when he first caught her wrist. Now, the only difference is that she's scared, possibly more scared than she's ever been before. He takes another sigh, and when she looks back at him, she doesn't think that his eyes sparkle anymore.

"I'm breaking up with you, Cat," he says.

The ground, the ground that she was sure would always be there, seems to drop from beneath her feet, and then she's falling. She doesn't think her heart is beating anymore, just buzzing too quickly. Like it's about to give up, like there's nothing else for it to do anymore. She wonders if it's bleeding, and if maybe, because it's love, it will finally look pretty.

Faintly, she wonders if this is the meaning of star-crossed lovers; for every star to burst inside of you, to explode from the inside and take you with them. Just so you can be part of the stardust.

"Why?" she chokes out, barely getting enough air through her lips to make the sound. She can barely look at him anymore, scared that his eyes won't have just stopped sparkling, but instead that they'll be hard, unforgiving, unloving. She takes hold of his hand, almost strangling it between both of hers. She just wants him to feel her, to make sure that he knows she still exists.

"Cat," he says. "You know why. You probably think that you don't, but deep down you'll know that this is right. We just weren't working." _Nonsense_, she thinks. _We were Cat&Beck and we worked together, that's why we were together. You don't make sense, neither of us understand. Do we? _Beck continues.

"I love you," she says, and she grasps onto his hand tighter.

"I know," he says, plainly and simply. "But you won't forever, and maybe you never did. Because I was safe, I knew you, that's why we were together, but we didn't fit. It was because of that that we couldn't fit," he says. She thinks that if they weren't wrong, if they weren't lies, they could sound very pretty - poetic, even.

Or maybe just melodramatic, she has trouble telling sometimes, particularly with glassy eyes and trembling hands.

She doesn't say anything more. Her lips are frozen together, sealed for protection, though she doesn't know what. With one last gentle touch of his hand to her face, in her hand, ghosting over her lips, he picks her up and carries her inside, and then he leaves her.

After that, her actions are almost robotic, she knows what to do, she just doesn't care anymore. Like she's surviving on the will to live only; as if that's the only reason her heart is still beating in her ribcage. She sees flashes of memories in front of her eyes, behind her eyes. Memories of starry nights and gently placed kisses, and eyelashes brushing against each others; images that should seem so pretty and perfect that only now only look horrible and unforgiving.

She sends Beck one text that night. He doesn't reply.

_I'm already missing our night adventures.  
_

She feels as if she's playing a chess game by herself, going across and around the chequered squares, not playing by any rules because there's nobody else left.

Just one white queen on one black square, without a king.

.

She's always left, _always always always_. So she leaves them all, before they can hurt her again, before she can let them.

She only packs the little things into her backpack: a songbook, her diary and a pen, her prescriptions, money, her passport, and plenty of airplane tickets. She doesn't leave one single note, determined that she can't leave any clues, just in case they find her. Just in case they convince her to come back, only to be broken again just as quickly. She can't risk it.

She moves to Chicago first, staying in a broken down motel room with one small tv and one grimy mirror that distorts her reflection (broken). She pays for it by working at a coffee shop, though she cries every night because the smell of it reminds her of Beck&Jade and she wonders what's happened now that's she's left. Who he's with, and if he even remembers her anymore.

She quits the coffee shop soon after, instead working at a jazz club where she sings every night and the sound of clapping fills her ears instead of whispers and the sound of another person's heartbeat. Plus, the first answer that tumbles out of her mouth when they ask her what her name is happens to be Ariel (except it's all wrong now: there's no dream come true and there's only a broken heart and little voice and her boy is gone).

She leaves post-it-notes all around her room, the words, _don't forget _written across them in black ink. It stays on her mirror, the tv, her alarm clock, anywhere and everywhere. It's always the first thing and the last thing she sees when she wakes up and goes to sleep. It plays in her head over and over when a boy asks her out, when she smiles sadly at him and says no, lying and saying that she has a boyfriend (and she wonders that if she lies enough, that it will be true).

She writes it on the very last page of her diary, the words squished together until she can barely understand their meaning anymore, and they're just a blur of black and white all over. She closes the cover just as a tear falls from her cheek, and throws the book across the room, vowing to never look at it again. Taking one last look at the mirror, seeing her tear-stained face and the post-it-note all together, she lies down, still in her clothes, and turns the light out. She whispers it one last time.

_(I love him - don't forget.)_

.

A year later, she's in Seattle. She's been thousand of other places since Chicago, and this certainly isn't the last place she'll be, but somehow, it feels different. She herself feels different, this time. She doesn't know what it is, though. But she only needs to spend one night out on the rooftop of the motel to know what it is.

The next morning, she takes her pills, laying them out on the counter with a glass of water beside her. She looks at them, all the colours, and thinks of city lights, yellow and red and green and blue circling and blinking at her. She thinks of them reflected in brown eyes, a smile that blinded the stars.

She blinks, clenches her fists, and takes all her pills systematically, each one without water just to feel herself choke; to make sure that she can still feel and that she won't get lost in her own little world, in the memories of a once upon a time that she doesn't think really ever existed. That it was just her, in her head instead of in reality.

The mantra repeats itself all the way through her day, distracting her from the ache inside her chest, from the shake of her body as it goes through daily tasks. It distracts her from how weak and frail her whole being feels. It works, until night time.

The darkness consumes her at night, even with her curtains wide open and the streetlight pouring in, it still seems to choke her. She feels as though she's paralysed, as if she can only breathe and everything else is too much for her. Every time she moves to go turn on the bathroom light, she falls right back down, as if the sheets have melded in with her skin, been sewn together. It makes her think of sweat soaked cotton sheets and tight grasps that leave bruises. She finds herself once again blinking away everything that she tries so hard to forget.

"I'm empty," she says finally, a distinctly defeated tone to her voice. The night doesn't answer her. "I'm lonely. I miss everybody."

Silence.

_"I'm nothing." _Sobs rack through her body, and she thinks that this is as much as an applause as she'll ever get.

The next day, she sends Beck a postcard of a cliff. She doesn't leave a message, even her name. She just puts it in an envelope, which makes perfect sense to her, and writes in very small writing on the inside, _don't forget_, and then she sends it. If he knows me, he'll know what I mean. He'll come and save me, she thinks. For once, even she can't believe herself.

She does consider it, walks right to the edge and thinks about how pretty the water is, what a pretty colour it's reflected. But then she just sits, her feet resting on a rock ledge, and does nothing. She wonders if she'd even make a splash, wonders if there'd be anything left to prove that she had existed in the first place.

She doubts it.

.

She finds Beck. She's too weak to stay away, too weak to even hold herself together in his arms. She hates herself, she hates him too. But she loves him even more.

"Oh, Cat," he says, kissing her forehead. She thinks he'll say something more, but instead he just breathes into her hair and wraps his arms around her waist as she clutches onto his shirt. She feels young again, small and defenceless and on the edge, as if one soft blow of wind will knock her off her imaginary ledge; knock her off from _her_ Beck.

He lets her stay, moves out from his own bedroom and sleeps on the couch just so that she has somewhere to stay. But, even with his scent around her, she feels as if she doesn't get any sleep, as if she never will again. It scares her, especially when she wakes up with white light shedding through the blinds and it feels as if no time has passed from when it was dark and the monsters were still crawling through the night. She's stopped dreaming all together now.

He stays with her sometimes, and sometimes she stays with him, as they watch the night turn darker and the lights turn brighter from his balcony. He takes pictures of her sometimes, when she's not looking, but she can always see the flash out of the corner of her eye. She always smiles after the pictures taken.

The mantra has almost completely stopped now, and it scares, now that voice isn't in her head. It lets her do stupid things, like when their arms brush her fingers start to tingle, and that one time when Beck falls asleep on the couch and she can't help but kiss his cheek.

It's when the voice stops that she knows she has to leave again. So she packs up all her things one night, steals some of the photos of them together that are in his bedroom draw, and leaves him.

Before he can leave her.

.

Her motel walls are covered in post-it-notes, the photos still in her bag, probably getting more and more crumpled, the lines of time engraved on them forever. Like her. She still gets lonely though, especially when she looks at her shadow in the wall, and can't help but think how much better it would be if there were two. When she looks in the mirror, her writing standing out, her face looking small and pinched, she thinks how much she wants someone else standing beside her.

Two months after she's left, she reaches into her favourite hoodie, and pulls out an old, crumpled post-it-note. She almost shreds it in her hands when she's able to recognise Beck's handwriting. All it says is,

_GO BACK_, in black and bold writing. With a slight smile on her face, she takes out her own pen, and changes it so that it says,

_ALWAYS GO BACK._

Then, she shreds the post-it-note and throws it in the bin, just to be clear. Just to be final.

* * *

**Disclaimer: I do not own Victorious.**

* * *

**A/N: Pardon any errors, it's currently 1AM. Review/PM me if you have any questions, hated it, loved it, etc.**


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